


Hunting Day

by GeekLibrarian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Medical Procedures, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4209048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekLibrarian/pseuds/GeekLibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been almost a whole year since Y/N left her job as a librarian to join the Winchesters and their hunt, and now it's her time to go out there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashley_Winchester_77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley_Winchester_77/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Research Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104292) by [GeekLibrarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekLibrarian/pseuds/GeekLibrarian). 



> This is a second part requested by Ashley to Research Day.

It had been almost a whole year since you’d left your home, your work at the library and only friend to move into the bunker with the Winchesters. At first it had been a bit weird to all of you. Dean wasn’t completely sure about Sam’s idea and you could tell, but he had proved to have a good heart after all. And Sam… well, things with Sam were always a bit tense and your heart raced every time you’d be left alone.

Luckily, the bunker was a magnificent place and though it had a very meticulous cataloguing system, it was out of date and a lot of the files and books that were there were not entered. Plus _index cards_ , everything was on _index cards_. So you had spent a good part of the first three months making an online private catalogue that Sam could log on to from wherever he was in the country, and if they needed some piece of exact information you’d do the research and called them. Sometimes you’d go with them, but not always, and you preferred the comfort and safety of the bunker than the cold and musky bed of a motel.

But in all that time, you’d never felt fear, never felt worried about them. Over and over again they’d proved to be strong and lucky, and they would always call at least once a day to check in, and they’d always come back, sometimes injured or sick, but they always came back.

That’s why this morning found you pacing around the kitchen, phone in hand and on the verge of a break down. It’s been two days now since the last call, and now none of them was answering calls or messages. After two or so circles more around the isle, you decided to go back to the library and looked over the research once more.

It was a nasty job. They were after a Black Annis, a sort of Banshee that feeds on children’s energy. They had encountered one before and left in a pretty good mood, but now it seemed things hadn’t gone _that_ well.

You stared at the maps and notes, took a deep breath and with a single move picked up everything and ran back to your room. The case you had used to move your stuff was dusty and left forgotten at the bottom of the wardrobe; you took it out and placed all the books and files inside; threw some comfortable clothes inside and changed into a pair of jeans and a plaid.

And then it hit you. You were going to go after a banshee, a hag, something out of a fairy tale that could hunt you down and kill you; something that could’ve already killed the only people you had in your life. And you had no weapons, nor any idea of how to use one.

You walked into Sam’s room. A room worthy of a Man of Letters, tidy and clean, a place to relax. But that’s not what you needed, you already were a Man of Letters, now you needed to be a Hunter, so you walked out and went straight into Dean’s. There, you had never been before, but a smile formed in the corner of your lips when you saw the weapon collection hanging from the walls. Without really knowing what you were doing, you picked a shotgun, a machete and a little barrel gun, and started to look for ammunition, hoping some of those were made of actual iron.

But when you walked into the garage you remembered with a knot in your throat that your license had expired over five years ago, and you’d never actually thought about renewing it, because you never actually had a car. With a deep breath you walked to the bronze old car you had seen Sam using sometimes and sat inside, praying to God the angels and anyone else, that you could remember anything about driving.

Once you got the car out of the building, everything became easier, and in no time you were speeding down the highway. The town the boys had headed was five hours away from Lebanon, and you intended to make them less.

Luckily enough, you didn’t encounter any police or ranger or anything, and in a bit less than four hours you were entering the little town. Everything seemed gray and dead. The streets and parks were empty and many of the shops and stores were closed, you could see that some windows closed as the engine of the car broke the silence of the afternoon.

You parked in front an open diner and walked inside. The bell rang a little and it felt awkward and loud, as if from another world, the waitress and cook looked at you inquiringly.

“May I help you?” said the girl, approaching a few steps, but no further.

“I… Do you have a phone book I can use?” you whispered, blushing completely.

“Oh. Yeah, sure. It’s over there, by the phone” she said, pointing to a spot on your back, and when you turned around you saw the little wooden box hanging from the wall, a black old phone and the guide you were looking for.

“Thanks.” You walked towards it trying to look calm, but they’re eyes were all over you. You opened it eagerly and looked for the first motel, wrote down the name and address and walked back to the counter.

“Anything else?” the girl asked, looking at you in a not so welcoming way, and by her tone you understood that the best option was to leave, rather than ask for something to eat.

“No, thanks.” And you turned around and walked out. As soon as you set foot on the street, the curtains started to low and the lights of the diner were off.

A shiver went down your spine. This was not good. Not at all.

You drove around the city looking for the motel you had noted, and saw a few more while at it, all of them empty, some completely closed. Your heart was sinking and tears were starting to form in your eyes when you finally reached the place you were looking for and a wave of happiness overflowed you: the black 67 Impala was parked there.

Without a second thought you jumped out of your car and rushed to the door of the room where it was parked and knocked hard. You heard hurried but dumb feet inside and when the door flew opened you found yourself face to face with a broken Dean, injured, white and all worries.

“Y/N?” he asked weakly “Y/N… what are…”

“You’ve been lost for two days! What did you expected me to do?” you almost shouted, tears finally striding down your face and walking rapidly into the room. “Where’s Sam?”

When you looked back at him, understanding reached you and your legs felt like jelly. Dean was alone there. He was pale and obviously he had lost a lot of blood, God only knew when was the last time he had eaten, and concern was eating him from inside.

“We… we got separated.”

There was a moment of silence and then you managed to find your strength again. You walked to his side and passed his arm over your shoulders, trying to help him back on the bed.

“Dean. What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, but the banshee’s definitely _not_ working alone. What got to us… that was no hag.”

“The town’s closed.”

“People are beginning to realize something bad is happening.”

“We’re going to make it right. Like you always do.”

“No offense kiddo, but I’m kinda in the verge of passing out again here, and you’re not Sam. I don’t see how we’re gonna make it out of this one.”

“Well, first of all, I’m gonna take care of you. And then we’ll see. I didn’t steal a bunch of weapons from you for nothing.”

“You wha…?” he started, but you pushed him back in the bed and laughed.

“First things first, Winchester.”

It took you a while, and a lot of cursing from Dean, but finally you managed to rip the shirt out of the wound in his side. It looked like the mark of claws and went very deep. Dean told you he had no idea what made them, because it was dark and they could barely see, he had lost a lot of blood and when finally managed to get back to the motel he passed away on the floor and had woken up a few hours ago.

It was nasty and dirty, and you could see greenish pus deep inside it. You cleaned it, stitched it and wrapped it. And by the time you were done, a bit of color was back on his face.

“You need food and water, Dean.” You said standing up.

“Pie.” Was all he managed to say, and you smiled. He was like a little kid.

You didn’t get him pie, of course. The store down the street was empty and there weren’t a lot of options, plus you wanted to get out of there quick before the employee decided you were a menace and started shooting you with the gun he had next to the cash box. You bought bread, cheese, some cold meat, water, a few beers and a box of aspirin. And before he had managed to give you the change you were running back to the motel room.

The sensation that you were being watched had grown ever since you drove in, but now, as the night started to fall, it was getting stronger. The uncertainty of not knowing if they were afraid of you, or you should be afraid of them was driving you out of your mind.

“How do you manage to do this every day of the year?” you asked once you were inside, leaving the bags over the table and walking to help Dean sit up.

“You mean going for groceries?”

“No, you idiot. Hunting, being hunted.”

“Oh… you get used to it. Sooner or later. Where’s the pie?” he said looking awfully disappointed about the missing dessert.

“Dean, eat what I brought you and shut it. The cashier was going to shoot me if I decided to stop choosing a pie.”

While he ate, you got your computer out and turned it on, placing over the table all the files and books you had brought. But once you did this, your gaze froze on them and then went to fix on your wallpaper. Dean noticed your silence and walked around the table to see what you were looking at, and placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a little squeeze. There, in your computer, there was a picture of you and Sam he had taken a few weeks back, on one of those rare days they had no job or demonic urgency, you were both laughing at something he couldn’t recall anymore.

“We’ll find him. I promise.”

“We don’t even know if he’s alive.” You said with stone cold voice.

“I do.” Dean answered simply, sitting back on his chair. “He is.”

There were a couple of silent minutes, and finally he started to fill you up with everything they had found out. The hospital was flooding with comatose kids, and almost every day one of them died, it had been going on for the last month, and soon enough every parent had stopped taking their kids out. But almost at the same time, though less noticed, adults had begun to disappear. At first they had been homeless or lonely guys, but when parents and town personalities began to be victims too, the town had shut down and trust had been lost.

“The problem” Dean explained “is that we didn’t know about the disappearances, because they were not on the news. They’re trying to hide it.”

“So we’re dealing with a banshee and something big with claws… What about a werewolf?”

“Well, that would be too fairy tale-y to me. Why on earth a hag and a werewolf would work together?”

“Bites me…”

Silence reigned the table again as he ate and you searched. Until you find what you were looking for.

“It’s a Bodark…” you said suddenly.

“A what now?”

“A Bodark, it’s a Russian werewolf… It was once a human that chose to change into a wolf… Dean, if it _is_ a Bodark, we might be hunting the one and only Baba Yaga here…”

“I thought Baba Yaga was a legend, a tale to scare little kids.”

“Yeah, so I thought about everything else not a year ago… Maybe they’re together… Let me check… Yeah, look.” You turned your computer and showed him the reports of similar cases over the years and in different parts of the world.

“How did you come up with this so fast?” he asked, impressed.

“This is what I _do_ , Dean. I’m a librarian, I do research.”

“Right. Okay, so we’ve got a skin changer and a black annis working together. That’s fucking great!”

“Well, at least we know how to take them down…”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna help…” but Dean stopped abruptly when, again, he caught sight of your face, your eyes filled with terror, your hands shaking. “Oh, hey… No, I’m sorry… Y/N… come on, we’re better than them, we’re gonna slay them both and bring Sammy back.”

“I-I don’t know if I can do this, Dean.” You cried out suddenly, letting the tears roll down your face again.

In the whole time you’d lived with the Winchesters, in the whole time you’d helped them with the hunts, not even once you had to live through one of them being in real danger. It had never happened when you rode along, and you weren’t there and no one ever mentioned it if it had happened when you stayed back. Of course it had usually crossed your mind, but now the emptiness was taking ahold of you.

“I don’t want him to die!” you shouted, losing all control “He can’t die without knowing how much I love him!”

Dean kneeled as he could at your side and pulled you into a hug. Stroking your hair gently and letting you empty your angst in his shoulder.

“He won’t, Y/N, he won’t die without knowing. You both deserve more than that.”

\-----------------

“Y/N!” Dean whispered, trying to draw your attention back to him. “Y/N, focus!”

“I’m _trying_ , Dean!”

You were outside an old shack a few miles away from the town. The night was dark and growing old, but inside you could see the light of candles. There were two figures moving around the room, and a three more lying in the floor, hands and feet tied and faces down the floor. You knew one of them was Sam, you recognized his shoes and jacket, and the feeling that you needed to run inside to get him was growing in your chest. Nothing else mattered, you needed to save him.

Dean must’ve seen the look in your eyes and the white in your knuckles, because he slapped your arm and gesture you to look at him in the eyes.

“No” he mothed.

“No what?” you mouthed back.

“No to that stupid thinking of running in there shouting and shooting.” He whispered, grabbing you by the arm.

“Dean, Sam’s there.”

“Yeah, and he’s alive, and we need him to stay that way. So, NO. Follow my lead and don’t let your feelings take over you.”

You pouted a bit and threw another glanced through the semi-covered window. The wondering figures were a beautiful young woman, with golden straight hair that reached her waist and astonishing green eyes; the other was a tall muscular man, with black curly hair and deep dark eyes and a massive beard. They were clearing discussing the future of the people in the floor, but at some point they reached for each other and hold hands.

“I was right!” you whispered happily at Dean, who rolled eyes.

“We’re slaying them nevertheless.”

“Yes, of course we are, but _that’s Baba Yaga_! I can’t believe it!”

“Okay, stop the fangirling, they’re moving.” He sat back against the wooden wall and re-checked the silver bullets in his gun. “You ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be.”

He jumped slightly to his feet and started to walk towards the door of the house, bended over so no one inside could get a glimpse of him. You followed mimicking his posture and movements, holding the machete with both hands and trembling a little though unsure if out of fear, excitement or a mixture of both.

Dean pushed the door slowly and trying to keep it quiet, and walked inside the same way. You followed into the room you had been watching from outside, empty of monsters now. The candle over the table was reaching to an end and you could still hear voices, coming from what you figured was the kitchen, in the back of the building. Dean kneeled down next to the first body and placed two fingers in her throat before cursing under his breath; it was a woman and you could see a pool of dried blood underneath her, when Dean rolled her over you saw that her chest was ripped open and several parts of her body were teared up. The nothing in your stomach crawled its way up to your mouth and you pushed you hand to your lips, now the smell was reaching up to you too. As was the fear of realizing Sam was in the same state.

Dean must’ve had the same though, because he hastily approached his brother and turned him over. You were holding your breath and you heart missed a beat when a weak moan came out of his mouth. He was pale and barely conscious, but he was alive and unharmed.

“You son of a bitch, of course _I_ was the one to get mauled while you just got to rest.” Dean said in a relaxed murmur.

“Oh, I was saving him for later.” Said a deep voice behind you that made you jump and turn around with a shriek, raising again the machete and trembling, definitely out of fear this time.

“You…”

“Oh don’t you _dare_ call him _anything_!” came de woman’s voice from behind Dean and soon enough he was on his feet, walking backwards to you, so you could stand back to back.

You were still facing the bodark when he changed into a gigantic and deformed black wolf, glowing green eyes and a black drool leaking to the floor.

“I-I think we’re facing the wrong enemy here, Dean.” You said a little nervous, looking at the creature and you blade, understanding that it was going to be of no use.

“Right!” he said, and grabbing you by the waist, without even daring to move more, and he swirled you both in the place so you were facing the banshee.

She wasn’t beautiful anymore, nor her hair was blonde or her eyes green. She was a pile of moving black and grey cloths, and a boned grayed face with no eyes barely showing through them. It reminded you of the Dementors in Harry Potter, and that made it easier not to fear her so much.

Behind you, you felt Dean’s back drawing away from you, leaving a cold spot, and immediately the shots began. But you had no time to look back, because the hag was already coming at you with the speed of the wind. You raised the machete and started blading it back and forth, trying with your biggest effort to hit something, but she was too quick and too strong, and soon enough the weapon was clanging in the wooden floor and you were on your back with the weight of the creature above you.

It was stretching her long clawed fingers over you and you could feel the strength draining from your body.

“Get- the hell- away- from her!” you heard a voice shouting and an awful scream followed, filling the cabin completely, making your head and ears hurt.

You felt the heavy body falling to your side and disappearing in a cloud of dust, and everything went silent.

“Dude, that was two like strokes more than necessary.” You heard Dean say and everything went black.

\-----------------------

 _What an uncomfortable bed_ you thought _why is it moving?_

You opened your eyes as the memories burst back into your head and tried to sit up, but a hand hold you steady in your place. A big, sweet hand.

“Easy, Y/N, we’re in the car.” Said Sam, looking at you with bright eyes, though his face was pale and the bags under her eyes were deep purple.

“We won?” you asked, and Dean’s laugh from the front seat reached you.

“We did, kiddo, we won. Thanks to you!”

“You kidding? I lasted like thirty seconds! If it wasn’t for you I would’ve died under that bitch’s breath!”

“Yeah, but if you hadn’t been there to draw her attention I wouldn’t’ve lasted two minutes. So we’re even.”

“Yeah right…” you mumbled, and Sam laughed a little, still his eyes wondering over your face.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again” he said softly, running his fingers through your hair, and a bolt shot through your body.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see _you_ again.” You answered, fixing your eyes in his, trapped in the magic and the always changing colors of his irises.

“Ugh, save it for when you’re out of the car!” Dean growled, hitting down the pedal an speeding up the road. Out the window the sun was starting to rise.

\----------------

By late afternoon you were back in the bunker. All the bags and coats landed on the floor by the stairs and you ran to the couch, letting yourself fall, face down, with a moan.

“I missed you, couch!” you shouted into the pillows.

“You’re gonna make Sammy jealous.” Said Dean, passing by and shooting you a smile and a playful look, raising his eyebrows just a second. He went away through the hallway without looking back.

You sat straight and looked back at the younger brother, who was standing against the table, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and gratitude.

“Thanks.” He said.

“Huh?” was the only thing that came out of your mouth, and you blushed.

“Thanks for coming for me… for us.”

“Oh, hey… well… you would’ve done the same, right?” you patted the spot next to you, inviting him to sit down.

“Without a second thought.” He said sitting down, suddenly interested in his own hands.

“Good.”

There was an awkward silence that lasted longer than any of you could stand, and finally you both talked at the same time:

“Sam…”

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I love you Y/N, I’m sorry, I can’t help…” but he didn’t get to finish the sentence, you were already in his arms, kissing him with a passion that gave away the longing and the need for his touch you had been hoarding in the last months. And he kissed back, a hot-blooded kiss with no restrains. He picked you up and sat you in his lap, holding you as close to his body as possible in a tight hug.

“I love you too.” You whispered when you finally parted, letting you forehead rest in his.


End file.
